From that day forward, Ellie’s regular nickname around the house has been "Little Sweetie" or lately just "Sweetie".  She has no say in the matter either, for at 16 months old, she’s limited to a scattering of words and a few animal noises (she does a great monkey, lion and snake).  I sometimes laugh at myself when I call her "Little Sweetie" when she isn’t being very sweet whatsoever.  ("OH Little Sweetie, why are you laying on the ground kicking your feet?"… I didn’t think tantrum stage was supposed to start for a few more months!")

I’m proud to report that my little girl is very independent and likes to do everything herself - including eating.  As you can see in the photo above, this can lead to a whole mess of messiness.  Lately Ellie has discovered Ketchup and she wants to dip everything in it.

Big Brother Jett hates Ketchup.  He detests the site of it.  His beloved "Little Sweetie" has betrayed him and now been dubbed "Ketchup Breath".

I think Ellie has earned a new nickname that might stick with her for much longer than she would ever hope to hold it. Despite his disappointment, Jett usually recovers after meal-time and calls her "Ketchup Breath" with big-brother affection.

01/01/00
I had spent New Year’s eve 99 at a party with friends in downtown Minneapolis and after things closed down, I ended up outside of the bar on my own.  A group of Russian students with thick accents rolled down their window and asked if I knew where a late-night restaurant was so I offered to lead them there (in their car).  I should have considered letting my friends know I was running off with the Russians, but I figured we’d all end up at the same place as planned (a friend’s apartment on the U of MN campus).
photo credit: Peter π

The Russians turned out to be kind of odd, so I sent them to the Village Wok and staggered down the street to Perry’s Pizza, a favorite haunt of mine through the late 90s while a student at the U.  Despite being past closing time, Perry’s was still bumping with a private party inside - an Asian American New Year’s Eve party.  I was enough of a regular that the owner, Tom, let me in.  Within minutes, I was engaged in deep conversations about race and campus politics with several innebriated party-goers.  An hour and a half later, my abandoned friends were banging on the windows of Perry’s, fuming about how they had looked all over downtown Minneapolis for me… but their anger didn’t last long.  I introduced everybody to our new friends and we all hung out into the early hours of the morning, playing pool and eating pizza with good company.

I always had my concerns about the long-term success of Perry’s… the only way they were able to garner decent sized crowds was on pitcher night, when the restaurant was full of 18 year olds with fake IDs.  I went once or twice a week on average to enjoy a slice, side salad and a soda for $4.27 (25 cents for a refill), while chatting with friends, playing pool or studying - often all 3 in one night.

The Replacements
Raising Kane’s was alright - I like any place that allows you to order a slice of buttered toast as an individual item on the menu.  They also had a poster of Chuck Norris’s rules for life on the wall as well as a framed Yanni picture and a couple plasmas with local sports.  The chicken fingers were just fine, not great, but their signature sauce was unique.

Next door, occupying the offer half of what was once Perry’s, was a Tea Shop… basically a coffee shop but with the focus on tea instead.  They’re popular for their bubble teas, but those kind of weird me out so I went with a chai - which turned out to be incredible.  Maybe it was based on low expectations but I really liked this place as a cruddy-day hideout and coffee-shop alternative.

Despite some new and unique options arriving in its place, Perry’s will be missed as an independent restaurant with friendly proprietors and big tasty slice of ‘za at a student-friendly price (not to mention the memories).  I hope Tom and his family are doing well wherever they’ve landed.

photo credit: kalleboo

Do you think Mr. T wears a costume on Halloween?
Hell no, he rocks the three-blade mohawk and gold chains as always.

So me and my brother, Little Lukie, are in line to meet Mr. T and I’m dressed as a Ninja for the occasion. When it’s my turn, Mr. T picks me up and says “What’s your name son?” - offended by T lifting me right off the ground, I do the obvious maneuver for a 70 pound ninja and dash him a solid karate chop to the arm. This sets T off and he makes sure everybody can hear him when he tells me “I pity the fool that try to karate chop me!… I eat Ninjas for breakfast!”

I don’t exactly recall what happened next, but I think he sent me on my way and I’m certain that Little Lukie was scared to death.

I’m so mad I lost that autograph… it got thrown out at some point with the special contents of my long lost Spuds McKenzie mug.